Commentary by Thomas Bishop:

Away, deluding Fiend, thy counsels cease,Nor lull my fancy to a dream of peace.Blest Heaven! what images dost thou present?What poisonous medicines to restore content?Thou bid'st me shun the weight of misery,And talk'st how brave a thing it is to die;That cowards only fear to tempt their fate,And will compound for life at any rate:While true heroic valour scorns to live,Or, woman-like, to sigh, to whine, and grieve;But, urg'd by manly rage to end its care,And pass the Stygian Lake devoid of fear.

Know, curst Deceiver, all thy arts I see,Thy hidden malice, and black treachery.Though baulk'd of all the joys on earth I prize,Thou shalt not rob me of eternal bliss.But dare the most affrighting sense of death,And should with swiftness act th' advice you gave,Were there not prospect left beyond the grave:But 'tis the doom that waits the mutherer,The dreadful flames reserv'd, create my fear.The road of death can't my firm soul dismay;But, when it ends in Hell, I quit the way.

Whene'er my glass its latest sand shall run(Let my sad woes prevail it mayn't be long!)Softly may I sigh out my soul in air!Stand thou, my pitying Guardian Angel, there!Guide and conduct her through the milky wayTo the bright region of eternal day!There will her sorrows find a sure release,Unsullied joys begin, and everlasting peace.